Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 (41 page)

“If that’s what you want.” He hunkers down to undo his shoelaces, his face indecently close to the site of my mischief as I swiftly cover the evidence with both hands. He stands again to remove his shoes and socks, both of us laughing at my resistance and his trickery.

He folds his arms. “Now might be best.”

“All your clothes?” I prompt running my eyes to the waistband of his trousers and back up again, delaying the inevitable.

“Do it like ripping a plaster off,” he suggests. “In one go. Less painful that way.”

“Tell me about it.” I remember the waxing I needed to get done first.

“Enough, Tabitha. Show me what you’ve done.” I know that voice. The
Boss
won’t let me hinder him any longer.

I lose all confidence. “Don’t be mad.” I take a step backwards and closing my eyes, remove my hands.

The room is weighted with one long protracted silence.

“Look at me.”

I’m far too self-conscious. Jack takes my hand then steadies my gaze on his before he allows his eyes to roam back down my body. Every muscle I possess tightens as his vision focuses on the glittering proclamation.

He doesn’t betray a single emotion. I’m horrified. No smile. No frown. Instantly I want to run and hide. I throw both hands back over the whole sorry mess.

“I’m not done looking,” he growls. He hunkers down again.

Oh God, he’s annoyed. His fingers trail between the gems drawing chills across my nude skin and a tightening of my nipples. He traces each letter, each word but doesn’t say a word. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking. Except it’s bad. Really bad.

Suddenly his mouth is on my flesh. He lips and suckles and tongues each word over and over until I yearn for his mouth to be more intimately attached. I curl fingers through his dark hair encouraging him to go deeper. Longings take over, casting inhibitions aside.

He leans back and looks up at me then rises slowly to his feet. My heart crashes against my rib cage like a wild animal desperate to escape the confines of an unaccustomed cage. This was one big mistake.

“
Fuck you Jack
?” He speaks slowly. Deliberately. “
Fuck. You. Jack.
” Repeatedly he intonates the three words written on my body. My very mixed message. It was a monumental mistake.

I step backwards once more and turn to the bathroom to hide away. His arms close around me in one second flat and he hefts me round and over his shoulder. He paces swiftly to the huge dining table over by the floor to ceiling glass windows and sits me on the edge, rolling me down onto my back to lie on top. He climbs up, kneeling over me, pushing me back up the table, caging me securely inside the frame of his body. I have no chance of running now.

“
Fuck you Jack
?” He growls the missive back at me. I’m mortified. It seemed extremely funny at the time. It doesn’t seem anywhere near as amusing now.

“I wanted this time to be gentle and slow,” he informs me. “I’ve had a change of heart.”

Oh God, a second territory-claiming fuck in five minutes.

His head lowers to my nipple and he sucks hard enough to make me cry out. He moves his head to the other side and repeats the torment. When he raises up to stare at me, his pupils are dilated. He’s very turned on, his erection pressing huge and heavy between his body and his trousers, but I still don’t know exactly what he thinks about the message.

“
Fuck you Jack
?”

“Don’t keep saying it,” I protest. It’s clear enough he doesn’t like it. I wish I could make it go away.

“I really don’t need to keep saying it, do I? You’ve said it loud and clear. In a blaze of glory.” He plunges two fingers inside me and slides them in and out, repeating the phrase rhythmically as he does. “
Fuck you Jack. Fuck you Jack
.” His thumb traces the letters again and again, sending me crazy.

Despite everything I feel, my body is singing out for his. He’s so intense, so focused and determined on making me react I escalate straight towards orgasm again. Jack crawls down the length of my body nipping and sucking at my breast and belly as he goes. My breathing is erratic, my senses heightened.

He nudges my knees apart and kneels between my thighs staring intently at my message again, almost transfixed. His thumbs turn distracting little circles higher and higher up my inner thighs. When he reaches the very apex, they begin their devastating work over my sex until I’m practically leaping off the table.

His mouth replaces his thumbs and he laps and suckles until I cry out his name. He stops.

“Don’t stop.”

He kneels back on his heels. “Explain it.”

I pant like a bitch on heat. “A mixed message,” I gasp.

His eyebrows wing. “Multiple versions to explain then.” He’s so not letting me off the hook.

“Then can I come?” I plea-bargain tentatively.

His eyes narrow. “Depends on what I hear. You have your place at the board table.”

“On it,” I correct.

He barks a laugh. “Present your campaign to the board, Miss Caid. Talk.”

I throw my arm over my eyes beyond embarrassed.

He doesn’t let me away with it. “Have the courage of your convictions. Hands down.”

I recognise that tone and swiftly comply but I stare at the ceiling instead. I just can’t look him in the eye.

“I would prefer your eyes on me. How can I trust what you say if you won’t look me in the eye?”

I’m such a walk-over when he has me like this. I decide to give him the good version first. “It means I want to fuck you, Jack.”

Hyper-alert for signs of imminent danger, I notice his hidden smile as much as he tries to keep it under wraps. He’s teasing me on purpose. He isn’t really mad about the vajazzle at all. He’s entertained by it. I’m being put through the wringer for nothing. Anger gets the better of me.

I launch. “And it means you can fuck off!”

He hardens before my eyes giving me the
Look
. “Can I now?”

He flips open his trousers one-handed without removing his eyes from mine. Unzipping and lowering them along with his black Dior boxers, his hand searches out another handy condom from his pocket. I stare, lips parted, at the huge rampant erection as he expertly sheathes it. I’m a little intimidated by the colossal shaft despite having already experienced its competence. Or perhaps because of it.

He lifts one of my legs into the crook of his arm and slams into me driving me up the table as I gasp. He drags me back down over his thighs staying buried inside me but ceases all movement. Frustration washes over me at the sudden lack of friction.

“Don’t torment me,” I beg him.

I squirm to find the abrasion I need. “Not one muscle,” he orders.

He swells and lengthens and I feel his flesh jump even though he doesn’t appear to be moving. It stimulates my nerve endings so subtly I want to scream at him to skip the twisted foreplay and move things along to the conclusion. He keeps me hovering until prickles of high-pressured tension gather between my brows, like there’s a storm building just before the weather breaks. I mewl like a drowning kitten.

How he can be so self-controlled I don’t know but I spot the thin sheen of sweat beading his golden skin. He’s not unaffected by his sport. When I can’t stand the stasis any longer and my blood thickens and slows, I thrash in desperation but he grabs my hands and holds them fast at my hips. He seems fascinated by my struggle to reach him but I close my eyes, blocking him out.

“Open your beautiful eyes, Tabby. I want to understand every part of you.”

“Then finish this,” I plead but with eyes wide open, as requested.

“As soon as I know what you mean.” His eyes flash to the design where our bodies meet, sending us both a little more crazy with longing. My toes curl.

“I mean it the first way.” I cave in immediately, disgusted with my weakened will. I just can’t stand up to his brazen torture.

“Which way?”

I sense the cost to him in the gravel of his voice and the taut grimace on his face and wonder which one of us would submit first in a real battle of wills. But I end the impasse, even though it’s almost too hard to speak. It’s time he knew the truth. “I’ve wanted to make love with you since I was eighteen. I was ready then. You’ve made me wait four years. Four years, Jack.” Even now I can’t tell him how I felt about him then. Especially now.

A shadow passes over his face but I don’t understand it.

“If this is about asking me to make love to you, your message is faulty.” He grinds out the words. He’s losing it and I’m not kidding myself it’s because of anything I’ve just revealed. This is purely physical.

I pant through the excruciating nature of his sexual denial. “Semantics. We both know what we want.” I want to end all those lost years.

“You couldn’t tell me what you wanted? You felt obliged to spell it out?” He releases my eyes to glance downwards again, looking almost hurt.

“Has it worked?” I bite my lower lip and try my best to look inevitable so he’ll give in to me.

“Yes. It’s worked.” He forces out the words and begins easing his body into mine; a rhythmic punch in and out. “God, you feel so right.”

I come straight away, flying apart beneath him. He stiffens and releases immediately after with a guttural howl and a bitten off curse.

I sink into the table, dead-weight and limpid, glancing at Jack warily as my senses slowly return. I hold my arms out to him with difficulty, utterly spent. “Hold me.” I need to be close. This is too much distance apart for me, after sex. After four years in an emotional wilderness.

He hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me to straddle him. My arms snake around his neck, my knees hug his hips and he crushes my naked body into his. Our breathing corresponds until we resemble one living entity.

“Did you like it though?” I whisper, feeling unusually durable in his embrace.

“Yes. You’re a-fucking-mazing.” He punches out his words on a staccato beat and hugs me so tight I can’t draw my next breath.

“Not the sex, the gems.” But I smile into his warm skin, feeling completely contented.

He grabs my hair and gently tilts my head back so he can look down into my face. I’m wary of his quizzical expression. “Did I pay for that?”

I glance apologetically back at him. “You did.” I press my lips together to avoid any nervous laughter and slowly widen my eyes to wait for the fall out.

“Thought so.” He smiles indulgently and positions me back against him. “I like my money to be well spent.”

I sigh as I relax completely. “Fuck you, Jack,” I whisper with exactly the right intonation. Right now I believe I could get away with blue murder.

“Manners.”

Or maybe not.

* * *

I’m beginning to think they’re stuck on with superglue when they don’t even come off in the shower no matter how much Jack eases a soapy hand through them. He delightedly offers to pick them off for me and I daren’t refuse.

“Ouch!” I yell as another one pings across the room, probably taking a little patch of skin with it. He makes me lie flat on my back on a towel spread over the marble bathroom counter with my arms above my head and I’m not allowed to assist. It feels so personal with his face up close to my sex which I’m just not used to. I blush furiously the entire time.

He laughs every time I hiss in pain. “Suffering for your art, Tabby? Gem removal could become the new spanking,” he warns.

He concentrates on divesting me of the shortest word –
you
– spending the longest time working me into a needy wreck as he merely toys around with
Fuck
and
Jack
with his fingers inside me. Yeah, he’s getting his money’s worth, all right.

After my latest orgasm in the bathroom, it’s almost dawn and I’m so completely exhausted, Jack relents and carries me to his bed with his favourite two words remaining.

“You didn’t even try,” I lie.

“We’ll remove the rest tomorrow. Although I might make you keep my name there. I like the idea of labelling my property.”

I grin, happy and embarrassed beyond speech.

Jack climbs into bed beside me, pulls me backwards into his warmth and wraps his arms and legs around me. He leans over, kisses me gently at the corner of my mouth. I feel forgiven for everything but I’m a little bit wasted on sex, soreness and sleepiness.

“Go to sleep, kitten.”

He’ll get no arguments from me.

Chapter Nineteen

I wake slowly, conscious of soft music filtering the space around me. The bedroom door is open and I’m alone in Jack’s bed.

My body positively vibrates as I remember how many times in so many places, Jack made love to me. I even count the first, furious, get-it-all-out-of-his-system time. I especially count that one. He was desperate for me.

I stretch, smiling, and decide to get up and go in search of him. As I climb out of bed I catch sight of myself in the mirror. If I ever wanted to create an advertising campaign for the well-fucked look, that’d be it. My hair is a soft tangled mess, my eyes dark and sated and my limbs heavy and loose. I still sport two thirds of a worth-its-weight-in-diamonds vajazzle and heave a sigh when I think of the torment to come removing the remainder.